The Get Into Hermione Granger's Pants Club
by Kendianna
Summary: It all started with the club. Then came the  reveal; a secret wrapped in a conspiracy, hidden beneath a puzzle that was really a front for the enigma, that was, in all actuality, a conundrum saturated in the unknown factors of a mystery... ...!
1. Voldemort and an orchid named Jeff

**CHAPTER ONE!!!  
PS: Some of you must be very confused...fear not, all the chapters will be back up again soon, I promise.**

Hermione was very upset. They were running behind schedule. She ran to the front hall.  
"Blaise! We're going to be late! Your hair can wait - work won't!" Hermione shrieked up the stairwell. She resigned to pacing angrily about the landing. Eventually she gave up waiting. She stalked down the hallway, and into the kitchen. At the counter, she smirked a very evil-looking smirk. Revenge would come in the form of cooked bread. Swearing, she realized that it was Blaise who usually got the toaster down for her, since she herself couldn't reach. A quick levitating charm, though, and she was on her way to her small vengeance. As she ate her toast, she mulled over all that had happened during, after the war had ended five years ago, August 1998. To the knowledge of the average wizard citizen, lots had happened. The biggest event though, was the surrender of Voldemort. No one had seen it coming, not even his innermost followers. He had given himself up to the order on the condition that he be institutionalized, instead of jailed, or executed.

The darkest wizard the world had ever seen was in a locked room, calmed with sedatives every four hours, remembering nothing at all of his life before. He had given all of his money to the order to split between the families who had lost lives because of him. His only requests had been taken care of with hidden smirks, and raised eyebrows. "The dark lord formally known as Voldemort" was happy for the first time he could remember (which wasn't very long because of the heavy obliviate charms). He had nothing better to do than watch over his puppy, and a potted orchid named Jeff that he insisted was capable of rational thought.

Before going in to face years of psychological treatment, he had disbanded his death eaters, and ordered them not to run amok making "tom foolery" like they had been for the past several decades. After Voldie turned, all of his death eaters "saw the light" too. They gave up their beloved evil-doing and changed their ways. Although the death eaters turned after their lord told them to, several of his men had already left him. The Malfoys, and Severus Snape had already proven their loyalty to the order, by providing information, and acting as spies. Together, they had given the names of over 40 death eaters, helping catch more than half of Voldemort's men before they had even thought to surrender. Also the dates and places of attacks proved to be so priceless that they all had been hailed as war-heros after the Great Surrender. Celebration was widespread throughout the wizarding world. Drinks were raised wherever there were magical people. Even muggles seemed to notice that a quarter of the world's population was partying nonstop for weeks. There was so much to be overjoyed about that the planet itself seemed to be happy. The grass was greener, the sky was bluer.

_What could possibly be taking so long?_ Hermione thought angrily. She made an intimidating noise at Crookshanks as he settled himself onto the tops of her feet. The large ginger cat promptly took the hint and launched himself off immediately. Hermione sulked in silence. She despised being late, and Blaise thrived off of keeping people waiting. Several minutes later, she heard footfalls on the stairs, and grinned in anticipation. As Blaise sashayed into the kitchen, he eyed Hermione's toast greedily, "Ooh, make me some!" he crowed. She gave him the most Slytherin-worthy smirk that had ever graced her features. Gulping, he winced, he knew that was a bad omen. "No, I don't think so, Bee. We're ten minutes late, and it is very much your fault. Besides," she huffed, brushing him off, " there isn't any bread left." He looked horrified. Making a grab for her plate, he was seconds too late, and she popped the last little corner into her mouth. "Early bird gets the worm." She shrugged, holding in a small chuckle.

They each grabbed a pinch of floo-powder. He threw it into the large kitchen fireplace. "The Potion Pot!" he shouted. Hermione did the same, and followed after him. She stumbled into the back of the shop they shared, and ran into something that distinctly felt like a back. She moved around Blaise to get a better view of his face and saw that he looked ill. "What's wrong Bee? Are you okay?" she asked. He was badly shaken, and as she pulled him over to a chair, she noticed that he was counting on his fingers. "Sweets, what day is it?" an elegant brow arched, and she thought for a moment; "It's the…oh no! It's the thirtieth!" an instant later, she realized what he was alluding to and they shared a terrorized glance. Immediately, she took action; "Go, check the stores. We need at least four more. I'll check for the ingredients. I think there's enough in the cupboard in the back where we keep the special projects" she barked as she took off running.

She ran to a room that accepted only her and Blaise's magical signatures. She nearly pulverized an ornate wooden desk, rummaging around through the drawers and making an unsightly mess. She found a long list. Ransacking a manifold of different cupboards, she got things from each and grabbed everything Blaise would need for brewing the difficult brew. Just as she finished, he ran into the room. His face was flushed, and he was carrying four vials of a blue-purple potion. "We've got just enough. I'll work on making more. You get these to Him. Stay with him a bit to make sure he takes at least the first one. If you can, administer it to him yourself. He trusts you, and certainly likes you more than those healers. Now quick! Run, love, run!" he thrust the vials into her arms and shoved her towards the fireplace. She flung a small pinch of floo-powder into it. In seconds she was at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Maladies.

After being checked in by the plump and rather useless looking security wizard, she ran to the hodge-podge sixth floor. Quickly, she strode to the stark white halls of the institution cell zone, where many victims of permanent iillness were held in rooms that resembled suites rather than cells. The zone had been installed to St. Mungo's when the war had started, and the death eaters began using threats of tortured insanity as blackmail. They had invented spells that gave the victim incurable muggle diseases that wizards were usually incapable of transmitting: such as epilepsy, autism, mental retardation, and many forms of insanity. It was even more incredibly cruel and devastating, because the diseases were given to people who thought it to be scientifically impossible for them to get.

The elderly witch on duty at the medical station saw her coming a mile away. "Oh!" she exclaimed, checking the wall clock; "dear, you're rather late. You better run and go give it to him. Hurry gal, there's no time to waste!". Seconds later Hermione was running down the halls of the zone, time a raging bitch behind her. As she reached room 307, where He was kept, she felt its extensive layers of wards and locking spells. She murmured a stream of complex incantations to temporarily remove these, then walked as she had done many times before.

"Good morning, Tom!" she called out. She looked around the ritzy room that could hardly be called a cell. It was really quite nice - the room was mostly white, with trim colors of khaki and lightest green. Planned with an extremely-messed-up-sedated-insomniac in mind; it was plain, but bright and airy, and had a lively, cheery mood to it. The only things in the sparsely decorated room were cabinets that held games and toys. Because the healers had had to do such an extensive mind block, he had lost a significant amount of IQ points; dropping him to just about the same number as Ronald Weasley. She waited for Tom to call back, and tell her where he was. She didn't really have the desire or the time to play hide and seek, one of his favorite games. After waiting on an asparagus coloured chair for several moments, she called out again. "Tom? Where are you, Tom?", When no reply came she ran down the hall and flung open the doors of his room, only to breathe a sigh of relief when she found that he was still safe in captivity. She joined him at his desk where he sat with a glassy-eyed stare. Several seconds of waiting provoked no response, and so she gently poked him with the tip of her wand, while remaining the regulated safe distance of .5 metres away.

"Tom! Tom, are you okay?" Again, she received no response. Just as she was about to run back to the healer station, she felt a tug at the back of her dress. She looked down to see a Tom she hardly recognized. He was staring at her, his eyes completely dilated, his skin pale and ashen, his expression spacey and weird. Barely missing her backhand, he rasped out something that made her stop open mouthed. His voice was several pitches lower than normal, wheezy, and spoken with what sounded like a raw, sore throat.

"_Soon it will come. Though the adopted snake has been in waiting, so too has its dark counterpart. There will be many whose hands will be tricked into their own fate. Shame, SHAME on the gilded betrayer, the angelic traitor, the pure deciever. You know your crimes and you must pay your dues! You must face the truth! TELL THEM!!!_" this last piece was screamed repeatedly, "_TELL THEM OR THEY WILL FIND OUT AND YOU WILL FACE THEIR RAGE!!!_" Hermione stood open mouthed for many moments, memorizing every word he had said. The dark lord formally known as Voldemort had just had a prophetic experience, and it chilled her to the bone.

Realizing that he should be back to normal by now she looked frantically trying to find him. She glanced at the bed, and there he was, staring at her. "Hullo Hermione. You've been standing there for quite a while, you know. Did you want something, or are you just here to chat? I really haven't had a good chat since you came to visit me a few days ago." He looked at her knowingly and gave a sad smile. "Ah, it's time for my medications isn't it? Well come here, you, I just happen to have a tablespoon handy." Still stunned, she moved slowly to his side, draining the entire first vial into his open mouth. As he drained it down, she turned her focus back on and began to give him instructions.

"Alright Tom, you know the deal. This first vial will only last a little while. Every four hours I want you to drink another, okay? Can I trust you to do that, or would you like me to give these to the healer to take care of?" He shook his head and took the bottles, placing them with great care on his bedside table. He was very grateful for having made Hermione as a friend. She was kind to him, when no one else would be. Sure, he was so doped up he couldn't remember two days ago, but he knew that she was the only one that hadn't spoken coldly to him.

She had never acted like he was a bad person, or had acted like she obviously didn't like him; she spoke to him as an equal. That was what he respected most about her. He didn't know that she had been his most hated enemy once. He didn't know that she had been a member of the organization that led to his downfall. He didn't know that she had been the one whose plan to slip him depressants in his food had been the straw to break his back. He didn't even know that her blood-status was one that had formerly disgusted and repulsed him. He also didn't know (and she didn't either yet) that she was the successor of Kingsly Shacklebolt, the leader of The Order of the Phoenix. But aside from what he didn't know, he did know that she was kind, compassionate, and the smartest witch he knew. He liked her because she was the only person who didn't seem to hate him. He knew, though, that even if she didn't hate him he would never have a chance with this miraculous young (YOUNG) witch. So he did what allowed him to do all the evil he had done before. He pushed the real feelings to the back of his brain, stored in a locked cabinet, replacing them with innocent feelings of brotherly friendship. Creepy, I know, but that's how some of the greatest minds work.

A while later found her resting in an armchair near his bedside. Tom was asleep. He had set his alarm to wake him up in a few hours. He knew that it was the superlative degree of importance that he take the potion at the right time. She had told him that if he wanted a good sleep, he could take up to two vials at a time, and simply take another in eight hours, but he had steadfastly insisted that he would be consistent, which had relieved her worry. She tip-toed over to the bed, staring at his sleeping figure. Reaching down, she brushed the hair out of his face. When he had any, his hair was quite nice and soft. After being one of his caretakers for the past three years, he was like a young charge to her. She stroked the side of his face. Without even realizing she was speaking out loud, she murmured softly: "Sleep well...Tom. I really do want the best for you." She smiled down on his sleeping form, and left.

What she didn't know was that Tom was not exactly asleep. He felt himself blush furiously, and clutched his stuffed ostrich tightly. He was thankful that she had begun to go, but sad to see her leave at the same time. He hadn't been left with enough developed cranial neurons to understand this feeling. She had been one his adoptive caretakers and had come in to see him nearly four times a week. He knew she cared about him, but in a friendly way. What was this complete adoration and neediness that squeezed his chest? He couldn't hide it from himself; he had a crush on his "_sister-figure_". He mulled over it for a bit, occasionally wondering whether or not he was a pedophile. He then stopped to wonder what a pedophile was. All he knew for sure was that it sounded rather bad, and he was quite certain he didn't want to be one.

As unkind as cold rain, the sudden epiphany that his hand was the most lovvin' he was going to get anytime soon brought him to his senses. He knew at once that he was merely going into withdrawal. He had heard hushed rumors that he had been quite the womanizer before he turned himself in. He had wondered for the past several years what kind of person he had been. He knew that he must have done really bad things for them to have gone and erased over fifty years of his life. He thought about what it might have been for a little while. Then he scolded himself; the nice healer had told him that if he had a relapse he might go bad again. He for one didn't want anything of the sort. He knew he would probably never be free again; but he liked his room, and his things, and he especially liked it when Hermione visited. Sometimes she would bring friends, and he wondered what it was like to have lots of friends that loved you. He rather thought that he liked Blaise the best of all the friends she ever brought. He was the least likely to hurt Her. Almost all of Her friends besides Ginny were male, which meant that he had to protect Her from them. Blaise though, was somehow different, he was fine.

**Hit that little blue button  
-Obliged, Kendianna**


	2. Maudlinism is so in this season

**I hope you poor fools haven't been slavering too hard for it. Just teasing...  
CHAPTER TWO!**

Hermione left the building, apparating just inside the Potion Pot. She rummaged about her desk, making a rather unsightly mess, until she found a notepad and a quill. She immediately dug through her brain, searching for the words so that she could write them in a perfect copy of exactly what had been said. Satisfied with her memory she went into the workroom, where Blaise had been happily pumping out potions. He was at the closer of the two tables, and she greeted him with a gentle tap on the arm; "Bee old boy, we have something we need to discuss." He glanced up at her in surprise and cast a stasis charm on the potion that he was brewing. He stared expectantly "Well, out with it" he grunted, "must have been something important for you to come back in such a fuss." instead of answering, she thrust the notepad at him.

He lowered his eyes to the paper apprehensively. As he read, his eyes widened in shock. As his eyes finished skimming over the page, he looked up at her in awe. "Where did you get this Hermione?" he asked quietly. Listening to a quick recap of everything that had happened in the ICZ ward, he seemed breathless. "Hermione...everything we've been working for...this could ruin everything we've been planning for the past twelve years! This could be...devastating!" they shared a loaded look that contained an entire conversation. Nodding, Hermione added her own two cents "No one can know, only the three of us. There's nothing to worry about, he didn't remember anything, standard prophetic confusion and ignorance. Still, we should be wary" there was silence for a moment, and they clasped hands, shivering in fear.

Suddenly Blaise perked up, eyes bright, and mouth smirking. He nudged her with his elbow, "This could be fortuitous. Maybe this is a sign that we should start moving things along a bit... _faster_," this only brought confusion to her face. "What do you..." her eyes followed his pointed finger outside onto the street of Diagon Alley. Directly across the way, in a brightly colored shop, two identical faces shared a laugh, unawares that they were being watched. Hermione faltered, then sputtered. She grumbled, "I thought we had decided that was rubbish!" Blaise chuckled low in his chest, "On second thought, it actually seems like quite an excellent plan. Do the first step, if nothing else, it will be amusing," she sighed, a scowl firmly set onto her face, and grudgingly obeyed his request. The poor Twins never felt the tendrils of her influence seep into their subconscious minds, they never noticed that the idea seemed to come from...nowhere...

"Dearest Gred…"  
"Yes Feorge?"  
"I do believe I have just thought of a scheme,"  
"Pray, do tell"  
"Come inside, this is too good to risk anyone overhearing."  
"Ah, so it's one of _those_ plans..." a wry smile was brought to one of the faces, destroying their symmetry,  
"Yes, but aren't they the best ones?" he joined his Twin in a toothy grin that was so mischievous that customers were frightened away, knowing that nothing good came from a plotting pair of Weasleys. A slight exhalation out of the nostril was the only indication that Blaise was laughing. A brow was raised in his direction, and he responded with brute honesty, "Hook, line, and sinker. Like a pair of retarded goldfish," A furrowed brow was the only defense she offered for her friends, before joining Blaise in a fit of what turned to wild laughter.

Later, apparating away from the sanctuary of the 'Potion Pot' and company of her compatriot, she landed with a thump into the lap of Harry Potter. Quickly and before he noticed otherwise, she fixed her face into a dull, happy expression "Sorry, Harry" she crowed "I was supposed to end up in the kitchen, my apparition skills are lacking" she grinned at him and he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Hermione it's been a while!" he said genuinely "Drama Queen" she muttered under her breath, for she had seen him just the other day. Then came the fun part, it took a lot of good acting to make a naughty fumble on a couch seem like an innocent mistake. As she crawled over his lap to slide of the sofa, she felt him wrap one arm around his chest, and place a restraining hand over his forehead. He exhaled deeply, and she had to hide a smirk when she saw that his face was beet-red. Once she was up, they made their way to the kitchen

Harry looked over at her worriedly; gladly thinking that she hadn't noticed his reaction in the living room. They were fixing sandwiches, when the room was suddenly flooded with Weasleys, and a few other good friends. To Harry, it was of the highest comedy that so large a room could seem so small when filled to the brim. Greeting them, he returned to his sandwich, grinning widely. He had always liked it when they visited him in the hospital wing, just because of the sheer number of them. Seven counting the kids, and nine with Mr. and Mrs. Weasly present, plus god only knew how many extra when the gang went into full-posse mode.

Almost as soon as they were through the door, Fred and George beckoned the boys up into their room. All the male offspring, along with Harry, Draco and Neville who had been visiting, curiously followed them. As they squeezed into the small room, a cat made it's way in through the door before it was closed. It looked up at Fred "Mowr?" it purred sweetly. The entire room was thoroughly surprised when George yelled: "Percy! What are you doing here? Get out at once, you weren't invited." And with that, he kicked the cat out into the hallway. George grinned at them sheepishly. "We couldn't take much more of his anti-Dumbledore talk. I finally snapped when I heard him call Hermione a mudblood two months ago. He's been Mundungus the stray ever since. Mum thinks he's in Brazil." The room as a whole looked pleased to hear this extremely satisfying answer.

"But back to what we wanted to tell you lot," Fred chimed in "We have…a plan!" the room hushed instantly, aware that any plan that had been schemed in the minds of Fred and George could end up being very successful…and very devious. Fred and George decided to kill the dramatic stalling, and hit the subject right on the head. They stood on the bed to make themselves visible to the throng "We all know one thing we have in common. And it isn't Gryffindor, Quidditch, or dangerously good looks. It's a raging out of control boner for miss Hermione Granger! The face that launched a hundred jerk-offs!" there were bursts of outrage, but the overall consensus was a sheepish flush that spread like wildfire. Like carnies, or merchants at an outdoor market, or car salesmen, the two raised their voices and plowed on ahead "Now lads it's nothing to be ashamed of, and there's no need to hide it! Don't try and deny it either! And so we have a simple solution:"  
"We want to form a club." Said George.  
"A fan club." Fred piped up.  
"A Hermione club" they said in unison.

Even though Harry had abandoned her, Hermione did the washing up for both of their plates. She heard them all coming back down the stairs, and one corner of her mouth raised slightly. With a little quick and innovative planning, she gave a sly nod towards one Ginny Weasley. The girl backed up a bit, and they both kept a keen peripheral on the stair hall. When the boys reached the kitchen, the two girls shared a glance, and Ginny ran at Hermione with what looked like the intent to perform a flying leap. Hermione threw her head back and laughed. Ginny jumped into her arms, in what looked just like a reverse piggyback ride

The guys entering the room, while extremely aroused by the excellent show, seemed confused. Picking up on this, Hermione explained "When Ginny was a bit younger, about second year I think, she would run and tackle me. It's a huggle" She smirked, the two girls smiled and touched noses playfully. "Ginevra is far too big for huggles now, though, and unfortunately I am far too short" She gave Ginny the evil-eye "frankly darling, you've outgrown me" she quipped, and they both plopped down onto the kitchen floor, sitting cross-legged and leaning against each other, laughing with reckless abandon. Only one of them noticing the pained expressions on most of the men's faces, and she reveled in how well things were going. They all had problems that seemed to be growing exponentially. Mrs. Weasly bustled her way into the kitchen. "Now what is the racket? I told you boys to keep it - Oh you girls! What are you doing on the floor?" she crossed the room and attempted to drag the two to their feet. They all giggled merrily, and when they were through Molly dragged Ginny off to help her with the washing.

Hermione, abandoned once again, joined the boys at the immense kitchen table. She sat squeezed in between Bill and Charlie, who were laughing about something, as they were constantly. After a comfortable amount of din, the noise was suddenly brought to a silence that filled the room. The men rose, forming a circle around the table, all staring intently at her. Draco, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, and Neville stared at her for a full minute. Hermione put a nervous look on her face - she was the only one sitting, and she had to at least display some element of shyness. Just as Draco was about to speak, Remus and Sirius entered the room with gusto; laughing loudly and merrily, with no idea how incensed they had made two of the people in the room. Tagging along at their side, and with a pathetic attempt at a chuckle, Severus proved that he was at least trying. They destroyed the boys' momentum, and engaged Hermione in a lively conversation upon reception.

The boys around the table all sat, feeling dejected, and envious. But that wasn't important right now; they would have to form another plan of attack. They all shared a glance, and Fred coughed into his elbow (Which is the American Red Cross approved safest way to cough, sneeze, and hiccup). At this very subtle signal, the seven boys all migrated back up the stairs, defeated. They left behind an empty kitchen, three confused wizards, and one slightly amused witch.

_"Oh, how fun it is to dull myself so!"_ she thought as she smiled into a cup of lukewarm chocolate milk that she had summoned. Her three older friends sat at the table hesitantly, clearly wondering what was going on. She made a show of giggling, and explained "The boys were just all up in the twin's room... They're planning something - well - arguing more like. But, the important thing is what they didn't want me to hear. The boys are scheming, when I say the boys, I mean ALL the boys. They're starting my fan club" two unison shrieks of "_Mother fucking TRAIL shit_", and a standalone "jiggery-pokery!" could be heard all the way outside where Molly Weasly was meticulously weeding her veg garden. 'Whatever could the bother be?' she thought, but then it was forgotten as she attacked a bit of what looked like venomous tentacula, ending up embarrassed to find that it was only a large turnip.

Stunned silence filled the room. The three men realized that it was foolhardy not to have seen something like this coming, that didn't mean they weren't still shell-shocked. "You're kidding, right?" Sirius blurted out. An awkward silence followed, and Remus began to laugh. It started as a snort, then became a chuckle, a chortle, and then a head-back gasping-for-breath fit of mirth. Hermione, Severus, and Sirius looked at each other shrugged, and somehow they all were laughing uproariously. Soon they were all out of breath, and Sirius was left rubbing his hand in pain for trying to wipe away Severus' tears of laughter. After much gasping for air, Sirius managed to pant out: "Did they really? This isn't an elaborate joke is it?" Hermione glanced up the stairs. She happily divulged that it was probably a prank, knowing at the same time that it wasn't so.

**Hit that blue button, por favor.  
-Obliged, kendianna**


	3. YAY FOR INDECENT EXPOSURE

**Now, onward to... CHAPTER THREE!**

In the bathroom at the Burrow  
As she washed her hands thoughtfully, an odd feeling niggled at the back of Hermione's head, and a feeling of anticipation struck her like a ton of bricks. Somehow, she felt she was needed downstairs. Gently toweling her hands dry, she headed for the door. Opening it, she heard loud voices from the kitchen.

Silently creeping through the living room, a thought struck her, and she realized that it could be important that she hear what was being said. The boys always were so quick to change the topic whenever she walked in the room, that she never really heard what they were talking about, even though she was clever enough to easily figure out. She turned her back to the wall separating the living room and kitchen, and slid down it, plopping gently so that she was sitting against it. Then she listened. She heard snippets of what was a heated discussion.

"You don't really care about her!"  
"We should just tell her"  
"I disagree!"  
"She'll never understand!"  
"She'll hate us!"  
"She already knows" came the quiet, but strong voice of Severus, instantly silencing the room. She heard his light footfalls aimlessly pace the room.

"With hardly an acceptable explanation you ask us to join this ridiculous club of yours. You assume we harbor impure feelings for a girl half our age!" He frowned angrily and stopped stalking about the room, to come back and stand next to his two friends. Sirius nudged him in the side; "but mate, we totally do…" Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, "…just shove your foot farther into your mouth Black…". At this Remus, smiling at their love/hate antics, came forward to the boys en masse. "Now I'm sure this was just a friendly invitation. Well, let's say we would like to, with all due respect, take some time to think on this," he eyed Severus, "Maybe this little club of yours will have some merit after all". From around the corner, Hermione groaned as quietly as possible "_Jesus, not you too, Moony!"_ no one heard but the intended, and, smiling, he kept it to himself. He was surprised when Charlie shoved his way to the front.

"Look," he said "It's not like we're secret perverts hiding off in the closet for years. We just talked about it for the first time today!" all the guys nodded. Remus gave him a manly pat on the back "I understand lad, and I think that this has been shot far out of proportion." He said quietly, then louder; "Love, don't you think you should have some say in this?".

Sighing, cover blown, she poked her head around the corner. "Sorry" was her sheepish response, "Eavesdropping can get to be a bad habit. Especially when you have a personal invisibility cloak" She walked past the fidgeting boys and pulled out a chair between Severus and Sirius. She sat, legs crossed, elbows on the table, head resting in her hands; a picture of casual authority. For a moment, there was an air of waiting, she was toying with them and they hardly even noticed. She could have kept them like that for hours and they still would have stood, eager and poised.

"I know you're all excited to hear what I think, you're all waiting, salivating, on-edge to see what I'll do next. I could say a lot of different things right now, because I'm thinking a lot of very different things right now. Well, I do say is: full steam ahead, boys" she declared with zest. She took a moment to stare into the eyes of every person in the room. "In other words, you have my permission to form my fan club. I think it's sweet and intriguing. Do what you like, I'm sure this will be a memorable experience for all of us…Just don't let me wake up to find your lovestruck mugs staring at me!" wiggling her eyebrows, she waved as she disappeared with a crack of laughter, much to the room's puzzlement.

_In their Victorian-Era home, Hermione and Blaise were in a celebratory mood. They toasted with full mugs of fire whiskey; the first several steps had just taken care of themselves. Though Hermione had originally been against this part of the plan, she found that as artificial as the scenario was, it quite nicely petted her ego. She realized, though, that she couldn't get too involved. Everything had to seem like it was their idea, everything. If anyone caught wind that something was amiss, the entire plan would fall to shambles. Decades of work would be all for naught. Best to just let them all play their little game right into her hands…_

_

* * *

_

A group of anxious men sat around a very worn, but clean kitchen table, wringing their hands with nervous energy. The luxurious bird had just arrived with a letter from the very object of their desires! Harry gently removed the small scroll from Hedwig's leg, giving her a small biscuit in gratitude. The air seemed to shift as they all leaned forward in their seats to hear Harry read the letter. He took a deep breath and a sip of water. "It's really short…She's just invited us over for a 'nice chat'. That doesn't sound like an emotional trap at all - let's go!" Apprehensive glances were cast about the room, and Draco chuckled to himself. They agreed to apparate to her house and see at least what was going on, because, quite frankly, they weren't sure what she had meant by her motivational parting words. They had discussed them at length earlier, and had decided that it was suspicious that she would agree so enthusiastically, and so quickly.

Lust took them by the groins however, and one by one they landed on the rapidly filling furniture of the old house's grandiose parlor. After several minutes of patient waiting, the majority of them nearly fell to the ground from shock when Hermione traipsed into the room, a blue clouded cover on her eyes. With a swagger in her step reserved for the most conceited of men, she hummed the Allemande to some pretentious suite. Mostly naked, her towel barely concealed her body. Coffee mug in hand, she navigated blindly, though with precise accuracy. She walked around the small wrought iron table and sat down next to Remus. The men of the room were enjoying the view, but were completely dumbfounded; why would she come downstairs to greet them, _naked and blindfolded_? She made a rather rough swatting motion with her wand and a small remote appeared in her hand, which she used to open a wall compartment that revealed an 80" television. When it turned on, it was muted and segmented; it showed several screens of different sports and races.

It was a very climactic moment as she removed her eye cover. She bit her cheek to hide a grin, and feigned a look of sheer surprise as she opened her eyes. For a moment the room was completely still; nothing moved and no one spoke, and no one breathed, and certainly no one even thought to make eye contact with anyone else. Everyone was so distracted and flustered that they missed the slight wink and nod that passed between two in the room. At that signal, Hermione shot out of the room like a wildfire moving through a forest. She was a blur, a bullet; faster than the speed of light or sound.

All the quicker to be helped back into clothes by Blaise, so that she could rush back to the eager posse that awaited her explanation. She came in with the jovial politician face on, hands partially raised in a mock-defensive gesture. Chuckling easily, she tossed and sat amongst the throw cushions with them "_Honestly_, I didn't expect you lot all to come running as soon as you got the owl. That's jumping the gun, wouldn't you say? Ah well, my fault for gallivanting around so indecently" she shrugged as if it were nothing, smiled at them as though it were trivial, motioned for them to sit as she told them with her eyes that it was long forgotten. They couldn't help brushing it all off, forgetting the trouble completely, sitting obediently; they were charmed, enchanted, but not bewitched. Not yet anyways…

But back to what they were doing. As they flocked around her like kindergarteners, they began to talk about the club and what the members wanted out of it. There were heated petty spats amongst the males about location, time, activities, and frequency. The biggest concern however, an unexpected one at that, was the involvement of the girl they were all so worked up over in the first place. The group was just about equally divided regarding Hermione's responsibilities; half wanted to be able to wallow in their unrequited love without having her have anything to do with it, and the rest wanted to be able to see her at every meeting to profess their praise and admiration. Still on raged the arguments about location, and ease of transportation, all points of which seemed fueled by either Draco or Hermione.

"How about we all just shack up?" Draco's head was indented upon by five men before he even finished his sentence. Mumbles of 'stupid idiot' were muttered around the group, and looks on faces ranged from amusement to disgust. He coughed a bit though, and carried on "Lemme finish blokes! LET ME FINISH! I think it solves all our problems. We all want to be nearer to the object of our affection, and we're all really great mates to begin with, something we can fall back on if need be. Think about it, it won't be like some kind of nasty love den, more like an adult boarding house…" there were still a few sneers going around when he was finally finished. Hermione's face became sage like, however.

Slowly a small smirk grew into a huge grin. "I rather think I like that idea" she stated simply. Sirius choked into his sleeve, as did most of the others. She continued, mostly talking to herself "You know, I like the idea quite a lot!" She looked around them, and smiled hugely, "I've wanted to move for a while now. I've always wanted a mansion, and we all know there wouldn't be any money issues" She removed her hand from her chin and pounded her fist into her palm. "Well, I say we plunge head-first into this endeavor! We should pick a day to go house-hunting together! Who's in?" of course they all were. Chuckling, she gently pushed them all out the door, and told them to come back the next morning.

The men had convened back at the Weasly kitchen. They were still in a dry stupor. Remus was the brave one to speak up and ask "What in the world just happened there?" no one seemed to know. Severus was the most calm-headed, and the least surprised. "Well, many things happened. To summarize; Hermione wants to move in with us, and she looks smoking when she's half naked. That's about it" He ended lamely. Harry looked up abruptly "That's it? It's not that simple. I for one, have finally gotten the perfect chance to have something with the girl I've cared about since second year, and guess what? I'll tell you what – so have all you other guys. Not that you all aren't great, but I don't want to share! This has been my silent battle of love for over a decade and I feel that all my effort has been pulled out from under my feet like a rug!" they stared at him indifferently, anything but surprised; they all felt the same way.

"Harry," Draco began "I feel exactly the same way. I didn't get hit with the bug until fifth year, but I understand what you mean. Don't think you're the only one who feels gyped. We all do. Except that's exactly it. We shouldn't feel gyped. We should be overjoyed that she wants to move in with us all, and take it as it comes. Are you blokes still in?" everyone looked at everyone else. Sirius chirped up happily, standing and slapping him on the back "Hell, I'm not missing this. I just hope she pulls that towel stunt again" many consecutive thoughts of 'dirty old coot' were thought. They all did that thing where you put your hand in a circle and cheer, and went their separate ways until the next day.

**I have recently developed psychic powers. I'm sensing...you want to review...there is a blue button...GO WITH THE FEELING!  
-Obliged, kendianna**


	4. Transitions So That Plot Can Happen!

**VIER! CUATRO! TESSERA! CHETY'RE! …(in case you hadn't gathered already)…Chapter FOUR!  
**As soon as they were out the door, she ran full-throttle up the stairs, and into Blaise's room. He sat on the bed waiting, looking as though he were about to die of a heart attack. Standing, he practically shouted for news, and she responded with news indeed. She nestled next to him on her knees, "Bee, If I told you everything was going according to plan, what would you say?" he grinned like a wildcat; toothy and mirthful. Scooping her into his arms he whispered lightly, lovingly "I would say you probably did so well that you made them think it was their idea, didn't you, you clever, conniving thing." they shared a glance, and fell into each other on the bed, hyperventilating. Sudden fruition of a long-hatched plan tends to make one antsy.

Blaise slowly rubbed the palm of his hand against the back of his head contemplatively. God, he loved her far more than he had his own sisters, and got along with her better than anyone else because she was his best friend. He stood with her against all odds. If there weren't such difficult extenuating circumstances, he would have made her his long ago, for they were soul mates and truth be told, she looked after him almost as much as he was constantly looking out for her. They ran a steady operation. Blaise looked up at his charge, and she was grinning magnificently.

"Well, any further thought on the matter?" she asked cheekily. He chuckled low in his chest, and brought her in closer by his side in a one-armed hug. "I think that if we move in with all of them, that you and I shall be sharing a room." Putting his hand over her soon-to-be-questioning mouth, he explained. "Quite frankly Hermione, I would trust each and every one of those guys with you. As a group, though, I have serious doubts. You know why _they_ want to move in - it's because they all want to 'get in your pants'. You're walking straight into their den. The three of us are the only ones that know, and you have to make it look real. I think that we should share a room, so that I can protect you" she looked at him and laughed and laughed. She rolled onto his lap, and played the damsel in distress; "Oh, Bee, you'll have to protect me from those perverts. You simply must help little ol' me, bein's cause I cain't take care'a mawself!" She snuggled into a position where she was sitting between his legs, with her head on his chest. "You always look after me, Bee old boy!" she murmured as she cuddled down. He smiled softly at the witch who was nearly asleep, "Yes, I most certainly do" he said softly, and began to stroke her hair gently.

It was still only a single-digit's worth of morning, when many a fancy-frocked wizard apparated into the Granger/Zabini house, however, the hostess was not to be seen. They called out, and they went up the stairs and into her room. They looked in the room next to hers; there they met one of the most intimate scenes any of them had ever seen. Hermione was sleeping against Blaise's chest, and he looked like he might be asleep too. His eyes cracked open. Grinning, he waved at them. "Hullo gang. Ready to go house shopping?" he tapped Hermione's arm gently. "Wake up, princess, your friends are here." A flailing arm made contact with his face "five more minutes…" she muttered. Blaise looked at the guys sheepishly "Can you lot go downstairs for half a mo? It's takes an act of god to get her up sometimes." Nodding, they all headed down the stairs. Congregating on the couch, the question on everyone's mind came up.

Ron stood and said loudly and angrily: "What were they doing in bed together? Why do I get the feeling that she's leading us all on?" he hadn't noticed that Blaise had hopped down the stairs, happily naked like the day he was born. He came up silently and placed a firm grip on Ron's shoulder. He spoke low into his ear, but loud enough for the rest to hear, too. "Well, what happened," he answered, surprising them "is that my best friend that I love like a sister, was in my room telling me how you wanted to move in with her. And when I hear things like that; that one girl is going to be in an animal house of a dozen men, I get practical - I get worried. So I'm tagging along to protect her from you pervs" he slowly sized Ron's body up "You needn't worry about me stealing her love from your…hmhm…_collective_ hands. Though it would be easy if I wanted to, I am extremely gay. So is Lucius...we're **close**…Just thought you should all know that. I'll bring her down in a minute" with a wave and another rough squeeze of Ron's shoulder, he trotted back up the stairs. While Ron was whining about being violated, the others let out a breath of relief.

They watched in slow motion as she descended the steps, they weren't watching a girl come down the stairs; this was the procession of a queen, a palatial parade, a glorious display of the nation's finest. She wasn't even wearing anything out of the ordinary, she just seemed to radiate…something that they responded to genetically. She looked like she was ready to bake cookies, or have a good long conversation about quidditch, or serve everyone a pint of butterbeer. Somehow she just seemed to get more viscerally appealing every time they saw her, until suddenly upon one final encounter; she would be the loveliest woman that had ever lived, or that any of them had ever seen. But then they all shook their heads, _'What were they fussing over? This was what she looked like all the time!'_

She acccio'd an armchair closer and sat with them, crossing her legs and nesting her hands together in her lap; _regally, gracefully…_*ahem!*…normally. So she began to speak "So we all want to move in together, a wonderful idea that I agree with and approve of. There is only one problem – location. I had originally thought of my own house to be our compound, or Grimmauld Place; they're both rather large and spacious. Not spacious enough, though. If we're all moving in together permanently, you'll want our own rooms. So too will the girls when they arrive-" Harry rose, hands on hip and forehead "Hermione, what girls? I thought this was supposed to be a club house of sorts. Don't tell me you have lesbo followers, too!" the thought made him collapse back into his seat on the sofa.

He, along with the rest stared at her, eagerly anticipating her answer. Her laugh was tinkling and merry; pure and clear "No boys, I assure you I've no interest in that sort of thing, none at all! What's going on is just this, if you'd have let me finish Harry. I talked with Ginny last night, and she thinks that there should be several girls in our little…well in our little whatever it is. Although I believe she has old fashioned reasons for that though, she wants a brigade of little cooks and maids for us," her eyes grew harsh, and her face became intense with anger for a moment "let me make one thing clear, though. If other women come to live with us, they shall be showed respect. Don't expect them to do any more work than you would, because I will expressly tell them not to!" in a split second, the angelic look of blissful happiness returned to her face. She cleared her throat "Well, I've had a talk with all of my female friends…not that I have very many…and they decided already. It's just a few girls what want to come along - Ginny, Luna, and Tonks. You can live with _them_, can't you?" there was a rumbling mumble of agreement, and she clapped her hands together joyfully.

Blaise perked up next to her, and became very businesslike "Alright, now let's each get an idea of what we want in our heads, basic requests that our house should have, and we'll try to look for one that has all of those things" and with that they all got down to brainstorming. There was a unanimous decision to keep things simple; all that they really needed was a great big house, they could take care of the upkeep and renovations with magic. So it was figured that they would need a very large estate to work with; at least a dozen or more rooms, grounds enough to be far from the prying eyes of neighbors and muggles alike, and other little odds and ends. The younger boys insisted that a pool deck was necessary; Severus, Blaise, and Hermione all implied heavily that they needed an herb garden for their potion-work; Remus morosely hinted that he would like to have a deep dark basement, though for what, he wouldn't say. Everyone agreed that it had to have the foundations of being beautiful. You could turn an ugly house into a winner, but deep down it would always be 'the house that was ugly'. They wanted something grand and palatial, a manor of glorious sorts.

They ended up chattering away for hours, looking over plans and drawing up ideas for wings and rooms and additions. Blaise had been to the office of a Magical Realty company the day before, and had gotten several brochures and flyers, which all succeeded only in throwing kindling to the burning fire of eagerness consuming the group. There were a few petty arguments over little trivial things, but then the offenders would end up laughing it off together, realizing they were fighting over completely intangible things that were totally up to chance. In the end the guests all left the house of Granger/Zabini feeling much more light-footed and joyous than when they had arrived. After shouted goodbyes, they went their merry ways, hearts soaring. None of them noticed Draco staying behind...

For a moment after the rowdy, hennish men left, Draco Blaise and Hermione stood still, enjoying the silence. Collapsing next to each other onto the sofa, they panted with breath that held traces of laughter. All three of them locked eye contact and clasped hands in an intensely intimate circle. Now that the others were gone, they could relax, they could finally take a load off for a short while. They each kissed the backs of the hands they held, and then sat motionless. It was nice to be together in stillness, the three of them could never get enough of it after all they had been through. Soon though, the quiet spell was broken, as Blaise let out a deep and rattling sigh "I'm glad we got the girls in, I thought that would've been a harder task than it turned out to be". Draco nodded slowly and turned to Hermione "I'm just glad we've been practicing with that level of glamour, or I'd have been as taken in by your radiance as the rest of them. Transformed into a blathering 'Yes Ma'am! machine," they took a moment to laugh, only to be interrupted by their stomachs rumbling forlornly. Making their way to the kitchen, they bent over backwards congratulating each other on acting jobs done well.

* * *

**I found out recently that I have a debilitating terminal illness. I was diagnosed with review deficiency. It hits writers and journalists with sick abandon, and I have fallen victim to it. Don't yet be still my heart, maybe some kind, appreciative readers will review and shower me with praise. Yeah, and pigs will fly out of my butt...**


	5. The Great Migration

"**HOW DID WE GET TO CHAPTER FIVE SO FAST?"  
**They sat huddled in the cold living room. It had their things in it but…the place reeked of unfriendliness, mildew, and deteriorating house elves. Sure enough for the fifteen of them, this old abandoned castle was home now, and they all shared unhappy thoughts about how the photos were extremely misleading. They all felt used, but some whined louder than others. Hermione glanced around at the walls and the old furniture covered with thick sheets of cloth. She spoke roughly, surprising all of them "I want you to leave - every one of you. Go to the Burrow, or Grimmauld place, or the Leaky Cauldron or wherever, but don't come back for a week" none of them moved a muscle; they just stared, waiting for anything similar to a higher executive order. None came, and hers was only amplified as she chased them out with a flock of chattering little canaries.

Blaise and Draco stood behind her, grimacing for the impact of what appeared to be a hurricane of female bad mood. To their surprise, she turned to them chuckling. Taking her wand out of a little holster on her thigh, she paced the room, drawing wide circles in the air and siphoning scum off of the walls. "I'm so glad they're gone. I can't take much more complaint, whether it be silent or voiced loudly" she sighed and smiled the two "So I suppose the least we could do is to clean for them, I can already see some of them regretting their decisions, and we can't let that happen," she reached to touch Draco's cheek, for he had begun to frown a bit "Don't fret, instead take a closer look; this is mostly a thick covering of dust and solitude. It won't be so difficult to take care of if we work cleverly". She reached for his arm and rolled the sleeve up to his elbow, patting the bare skin delicately and grinning, "All the better for cleaning!"

So for the next several days they worked; tirelessly, unceasingly, miserably; but by the time they were done, the castle was in ship-shape. Draco, craving fresh air, had gone outside to see to the overgrown mess of what was once magnificent landscaping. Blaise took both the first floor and the top floor, blasting away at years of scum and dust that lingered upon the Lord and Lady's Bower, the rooms for accommodating, and the Great Hall. Hermione settled herself onto the ground floor, taking time to explore as she cleaned, and finding herself quite interested in the buttery, bottlery and kitchens. Over the course of the next few days, they felt like they were flying through their work. The two had the oddest feeling that Hermione had played some games with time to help them get through their chores; though when questioned, she only flashed doe eyes and a smile. Que sera sera; who cared if she meddled with the fabric of the universe and all of creation, as long as they didn't spend more time cleaning than was _abso-__**lutely**_ necessary?

When the others arrived one by one, they found that the three steadfast cleaners had become zombified loungeabouts. Though they were dead tired from working, the fruits of their labor were obvious. It may have been a rather small castle, maybe more along the lines of a large villa or family compound, but castle it was; it was as bright and merry, as regal and grand as it must have been hundreds of years ago. They fluttered from here to there, awestruck by the difference. After a bit of exploration, they all surrounded the three busy-bees near the couch. Harry settled back on his ankles "I really don't know what to say…this looked like it should have been condemned decades ago, and now it's just about the most lovely place I've ever been to!" everyone else let out a whoop of agreement, and after more exuberations of gratitude the rest of them ran off to claim the best south-facing rooms.

The loungeabouts took the others' departure as a sign to get moving. With a hint of discretion and nonchalance, the three snuck up a floor and into the Bower, closing the door behind them with quick whispers of _Alohamora_ and_ Homenum Revelio _. After ensuring privacy, the three of them slumped into a heap onto the bed. They weren't as exhausted as they had acted in front of everyone else, in fact, they felt very chipper. Crackling noises and sparks shot off around Hermione, and her features seemed to shift "Oh, I'd just gotten used to not wearing it, that was such a nice break" she rolled over and rose up onto her elbows "tell me Draco, doesn't your face hurt after just the few hours now?" he chuckled and nodded. Blaise ran a knuckle over his cheeks, trying to get a bit of sensation back, "So guys," he shot out "how much longer do we wait?" they all grimaced, each of them had been avoiding this conversation.

An hour or so later, everyone met in the living room, happily sharing news of their explorations. There were chairs and sofas enough for all; no one was demoted to the floor. They sat happily chatting away for hours. At one point someone suggested they go outside, and so they did. The grounds were one of the most impressive things about the whole estate. Rolling hillocks, orchards, patches of forest, and a small pod dotted its magnificent landscape. Retreating to the courtyard, those who hadn't seen it yet gasped in amazement. A fountain sent a spray of water arching into the sky, to fall back again in thousands of little droplets. Benches were here and there, placed in key spots to view the fountain, or the flower beds, or the sunset, or the spectacular topiaries. They watched the sky pinking together, and as it turned orange they headed inside to go their separate ways.

**This chapter was kind of boring…I hope you liked it more than I did…thank god it was so short…**

**You remember the question at the beginning of the chapter. The answer is, surprisingly, not simple laziness. I tried several times to revamp this story, but I never had a real plot in mind, just an extended situation. I remembered recently that although the story was relatively stagnant before, it was chapter upon chapter (15 or 16?) of comedic s=gold. Not the best, sophisticated comedy, the stupid funny. That's the kind I'm good at. But this time around, there is a lot more plot and a lot less of the funny...so I'll work on that. In the meantime, trust me, this story is going somewhere (eventually), and I think you'll all be rather surprised!**


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